


Just Give Me a Reason

by txmex91



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Kaner is a hooker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txmex91/pseuds/txmex91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hooker, prostitute, whore…these were not words which described Patrick Kane. He was an escort, a highly paid escort, and he was damn good at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Right From the Start You Were a Thief, You Stole My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisapy74](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lisapy74).



> When I asked my dear friend what she wanted for her birthday she said she wanted a Kaner hooker fic. So here it is.
> 
>  
> 
> Title taken from my favorite song on Pink’s new album.
> 
> Un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Hooker, prostitute, whore…these were not words which described Patrick Kane. He was an escort, a highly paid escort, and he was damn good at it. He was well known throughout Chicago’s elite as a rich, successful, and very eligible bachelor. Only his clients, a very select group of women, knew the truth.

Although he was a frequent fixture in Chicago gossip columns, the public only knew the Patrick which he allowed them to know. When questions were asked which he did not want to answer he was able to quickly divert attention elsewhere; Patrick was a master at turning a conversation in his favor. He was known to be a successful business man but he always stayed very vague about his business. He was a patron of the arts, often found at one of Chicago’s many theaters, but in reality Patrick was a sports nut and couldn’t care less about theatre. He always had a beautiful woman on his arm, which led to the most ridiculous misconception about Patrick Kane. He was considered to be one of the biggest womanizers in Chicago, but Patrick was in fact gay.

Patrick didn’t have sex with his clients but accompanied them to fundraisers, the theater, the opera, and occasionally a highly anticipated sporting event. He brought positive attention and safety to the women he accompanied and it was a win-win situation. The women were seen on the arm of a well known, handsome man and didn’t have to worry about end of the night expectations. Patrick was paid handsomely for his time and was able to maintain a high profile image within the community.

The only relationships Patrick had ever been in were those for which he was paid. His date for the evening was the daughter of a prominent sports figure who frequently hired Patrick to accompany her in public. She paid well and demanded exclusivity. They both knew her public image improved when they were together but the occasional “spat” also drew great attention so they had carefully orchestrated breakups every few months which allowed for Patrick to take on additional clients.  She was rich, beautiful, seriously distrustful of men, and in no way looking for sex, but needed to be in the Chicago scene with a handsome man.

This particular night they were at the Blackhawks game which was a breath of fresh air for Patrick compared to the numerous holiday galas they had recently attended. Patrick enjoyed the game but he was working and had to maintain the image of an occasional fan much more interested in his date than the game.  So they flirted, they laughed, and they shared coy looks and smiles throughout the game. They were caught on the big screen sharing a kiss, the picture of a perfect couple, and again cheering at the end of the game when Toews scored the game winning goal. They ended up at an after party with the team and Patrick swallowed back the excitement at meeting some of his favorite players and kept up the facade of someone who didn’t follow hockey. At the end of the evening Patrick made his way to the VIP coat check and ran smack into the first star of the game, Jonathan Toews.

“Oh, sorry man,” Toews said as he grabbed Patrick’s bicep in order to steady him. Toews had incredibly intense eyes and was staring at Patrick as if he was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. Patrick wanted him, and had consumed just enough alcohol to let his guard down for a moment and he flashed his brilliant smile as he covered Jonathan’s hand, still on his arm, with his own.

“No problem man, great game tonight,” he laughed as he slowly rubbed his fingers over Jonathan’s hand before encircling his wrist. “Want to meet up later,” he asked quietly as Jonathan’s eyes grew large, threatening to bug out of his head. But before Toews could answer his date appeared by his side, yawning as she leaned into Patrick.

“Take me home baby, I’m so sleepy,” she whined and that was all it took for Patrick to remember where he was, _who_ he was, and the role he was being paid handsomely to play.

“Sure thing babe,” he answered as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Toews was frozen in place, his hand still securely fixed to Patrick’s arm, eyes questioning. “Just let me give my number to the Captain sweetie, I’m trying to get hooked up with the Blackhawks charity organization,” and before Toews knew what was happening Patrick grabbed his phone out of his front pocket and programmed in his number, flashing his dimples one last time before he tightened his grip on his date and headed for the door.


	2. I Let You See the Parts of Me That Weren't All That Pretty

It took forty-five minutes for Patrick’s phone to ring and less than two seconds for him to guess that the unknown number was Jonathan Toews.

“Hello, this is Patrick,” he sang sweetly into the receiver, laughing when he heard Jonathan snort on the other end of the line.

“So what is your deal,” Jonathan asked slowly, “The girl, is she your girlfriend?”

Patrick paused, his situation was unique and although he enjoyed the company of men on occasion he had to be very careful with the specific men he allowed into his life. Two things could instantly kill his career  - if he were outted as gay or if he were outted as an escort. His high class dates would no longer pay to be seen in his company if either truth were to be made publically known and the importance of his career made Patrick’s personal life almost non-existent.  It’s not like Patrick didn’t ever have sex but there were specific precautions which had to first be taken. Background checks and a PI report were necessary before he even went on a first date. He had been equally disappointed and relieved on several occasions to learn that a man he was considering hooking up with had a background which made him likely to sell Patrick’s secret to the press. Disappointed because nobody likes to be cock blocked, but relieved because his careful screening and selection of perspective partners allowed him to weed out the bad seeds early before any damage could be done. But with Jonathan it was different. He was a much bigger celebrity in Chicago than Patrick would ever be. His reputation would be irrevocably damaged by being associated with an escort and seeing that Patrick was a male escort would make it even more scandalous for the captain. So Patrick decided on a whim, a half drunken whim, to throw caution to the wind this one time and let himself live on the edge, be carefree and hook up with a random and extra hot stranger.

“My deal is that I want you to come over here and fuck me and no, the girl is not my girlfriend,” Pat replied sweetly. He expected a long pause or maybe another snort from Jonathan but instead he heard the slam of a door and footsteps on stairs.

“Text me your address, I’m on my way.”

Jonathan lived on Patrick’s side of town so it only took him about 15 minutes to arrive and they didn’t waste any time. Jonathan had Patrick against the door before he could close it and was attacking his mouth, licking his way in hungrily. He grabbed Patrick’s collar and ripped his expensive shirt straight down his chest, eliciting a loud moan from the smaller man as Jonathan moved straight to Patrick’s pants, not missing a beat as he unbuttoned his slacks and shoved his hand inside to grab Patrick’s already hardening cock.

“Hold on, hold on,” Patrick gasped as he tried to pull away. “I need to talk to you about something before we do this.”

Jonathan froze but did not remove his hand from its tight grip around Patrick. He turned his head to the side, licked his lips, and raised one eyebrow in anticipation.

“Please don’t get offended, but would you please sign a non-disclosure form,” Patrick whispered. He really didn’t know what to expect but he wasn’t willing to go into this situation ignoring all potential risk. Sure, he didn’t put Toews through his typical background check but this was his livelihood and he couldn’t risk everything just because he really, really wanted Jonathan to fuck him.

“Wait, you are asking _me_ to sign a non-disclosure form,” Jonathan asked with a loud laugh. “Seriously man, that is usually my line. I will sign anything. you. want.” He said, punctuating each word with a kiss. Patrick practically bolted to his desk and began rummaging around, triumphantly waving a piece of paper in the air a moment later and handing it to Jonathan along with a pen.

Jonathan quickly signed the paper and threw it on the counter before grabbing Patrick’s ass forcefully and lifting him up to straddle his waist. But as Patrick leaned in for a kiss Jonathan hesitated, pulling back slightly.

“What’s the deal with the non-disclosure form,” he asked, staring intensely into Patrick’s eyes. He looked curious but not concerned and Patrick wondered for a brief moment if he should lie, as he usually did, and say that he was into girls but every so often liked a little dick on the side. But something about Jonathan was different and he had a weird feeling that this could actually mean something so for the first time in his life he looked Jonathan straight in the eye and told the truth.

“I’m an escort,” Patrick said slowly, “The women I go out with are my clients and the public can’t know that I’m gay.” Patrick didn’t know what he was expecting, but the loud laugh from Jonathan was most definitely not it.

“An escort, an escort for girls,” Jonathan said with a smile. “I can work with that,” and he leaned forward once again to capture Patrick’s mouth with his.


	3. Just a Little Bit's Enough

Twelve hours later, after Jonathan had fucked Patrick hard against the kitchen island, slowly in the bed, and hard again in the shower, Patrick rolled over and smiled at the naked hockey player staring at him from the other side of his bed. He scooted closer, fully intending to wrap himself around Jonathan one more time when a hand gently extended to stop him.

“How exactly does it work with your clients,” he asked quietly. Patrick groaned; he should have known it wouldn’t be all rainbows and unicorns. Of course Jonathan would have questions and although he seemed fine with everything the night before the morning light brought clarity to the situation and it was understandable that Jonathan would want answers.

“I don’t fuck them, if that is what you are asking,” Patrick said carefully as he forced himself into Jonathan’s space and curled into him, resting his head on his muscular, bare chest. “I’m an actor and I play the part of a doting boyfriend. I’m paid well for my time.”

Jonathan didn’t speak for a long moment but rubbed his hand down Patrick’s back soothingly. “So that is your job,” he asked. “I always thought you were a lawyer or something.” Patrick couldn’t hold back the laughter which escaped from his lips.

“So you thought about me,” Patrick asked coyly as he propped himself up on his elbows and smiled brilliantly at Jonathan. He laughed again as Jonathan turned slightly red and tried to push him away.

“It’s hard not to with your picture in the paper all the time,” Jonathan huffed. “But I don’t get it, what do the girls get out of it and how the hell do you find yourself in this line of work,” Jonathan asked, and Patrick smiled again. Jonathan was trying to understand, trying to wrap his mind around Patrick’s job and his interest made Patrick feel something warm low in his belly which he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

But Patrick paused. How could he put into words what he gave his clients without revealing their fears, insecurities, and for some their deepest secrets? And how could he explain to this man how he had become an escort, living a life which was all an act? It was a high class act, but an act none the less.

“I’m a professional. I know how to behave in public without being embarrassing. I’m discreet so they don’t have any worries that their personal business will end up on twitter or in some gossip rag. I’m also harmless; we sign a contract going into the arrangement which forbids sexual contact so we are both on the same page with expectations,” he said slowly as he avoided Jonathan’s eyes. He had answered the first part of the question but intentionally left out the second part.

“Does that answer your questions Mr. Toews,” he whispered into Jonathan’s lips. Patrick was the master of turning a conversation in his favor and realized quickly that rutting his hard cock against Jonathan’s muscular thigh was an excellent distraction tactic. Jonathan quickly pulled Patrick the rest of the way on top of him and shoved his tongue into the smaller man’s mouth. They both let out loud groans as their cocks rubbed against each other and within a matter of seconds both men had managed to forget that part of Jonathan’s question had gone unanswered.

 

~~~~ooooo~~~~

They spent the day alternating between fucking and sleeping and Patrick finally untangled himself from Jonathan in the early evening. Jonathan tried pulling him back down and almost succeeded before Patrick managed to pull himself completely off the bed, laughing as he walked toward the bathroom.

“I have to work tonight,” Patrick said. “But I’m free tomorrow,” he called from the bathroom. Jonathan didn’t respond and Patrick frowned slightly as he watched the room fill with steam from the shower. He had enjoyed the day and hoped it wouldn’t be a one-time thing but at the same time he couldn’t blame Jonathan if he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything more. He knew how unconventional his lifestyle was and it was ridiculous to expect anyone else to understand. He stepped into the shower just as strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back onto the cold tile. He turned around slowly, looked up into Jonathan’s dark eyes and found himself unable to hold back the sigh which escaped from his lips.

“Three day road trip starts tomorrow but then I’ll be back in Chicago for a week,” Jonathan whispered into Patrick’s neck as he peppered soft kisses between his collarbone and ear. “Can I see you again,” he asked quietly.

Patrick smiled as he raised his eyes to meet Jonathan’s. With an affirmative nod he pulled the taller man into the shower with him, excited for the first time in his life with the possibility of something real.


	4. Just Give Me a Reason

Between their schedules it was almost impossible to find time to get together. Patrick’s client demanded mostly evening commitments and with Jonathan’s practice, games, and travel it was tough. After three weeks of brief, stolen moments and way more telephone calls and text messages than either man was comfortable acknowledging, they both had an open Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning giving them almost 16 hours together. Patrick was just finishing the final preparations for dinner when the doorbell rang, 15 minutes earlier than Jonathan was supposed to arrive.

“Anxious, are we darling,” he laughed as he opened the door. But Jonathan wasn’t standing outside of his door, his client was. She was shaking and sobbing with tears streaking down her face. Patrick quickly pulled her inside and led her to the couch. She had been his client for three years and he had never seen her so much as shed a tear so he knew something major had happened.

“What’s wrong baby, what happened,” he said lightly as he slowly rubbed her back. She choked back a few sobs, trying to speak before she dissolved into tears and buried her face into Patrick’s shoulder. They were interrupted by another knock at the door, this time the door opened on its own and Jonathan peeked his head inside, eyes widening at the sight of the broken woman on the couch. He slowly entered and placed a bottle of wine on the table before retreating to the kitchen to give Patrick and his client some privacy.

“My dad was arrested Patrick. It looks really bad, something about a young boy. I don’t know, I don’t know what to do, but my publicist says I need to go to the jail and I can’t go by myself. Please, I need you to go with me,” she sobbed.

Patrick looked up and caught Jonathan’s eyes as he peeked out from the other room. Patrick expected to see understanding but instead he found a shuttered and cold expression. Jonathan shook his head gently back and forth and mouthed “not tonight”.

As much as Patrick had been looking forward to finally having an evening alone with Jonathan this was his biggest client, his livelihood, and he couldn’t just say no. He slowly untangled himself from the weeping woman on the couch and pulled Jonathan into the kitchen.

“This is a big deal, I can’t just leave her,” Patrick said quietly. “It won’t take that long and we can still spend the night together,” he smiled as he leaned up to kiss Jonathan. But Jonathan pulled back slightly, forcing Patrick to look into his eyes.

“We haven’t spent a night together in three weeks. I’ve missed you like crazy and you are going to choose your fake life over me,” he asked incredulously.

Patrick knew Jonathan had a jealous streak but there was not any reason to act crazy over his female client. He thought of her as a sister and if she was hurting he was going to be there for her.

“Jonathan,” Patrick said sharply, “she is a very good friend of mine, not to mention my _employer_. I am going with her but I promise it won’t be for the entire night.” He wound his arms around the taller man’s neck and tried to pull him down to meet his lips, but Jonathan resisted.

“Ah yes, your employer _._ OK, so it’s about the _money_ ,” he said harshly as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He rifled through for a couple minutes and then threw a wad of bills on the table. “If I need to pay you like a whore to keep you here, I will.”

Patrick sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly felt dizzy. He must have swayed momentarily because Jonathan’s expression softened to something less hateful and more ashamed as he grabbed Patrick’s arm in an attempt to steady him. But Patrick jerked away from the touch as if he were burned. He blinked back the tears that momentarily threatened to fall and his blue eyes turned hard and cold.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he said, anger pouring off of him in waves. “I am not a whore and I sure as hell would never be _your_ whore.” Jonathan backed up slowly, he was much taller than Patrick and much stronger but Patrick was furious and that kind of anger was enough to make anyone back down.

“I didn’t mean-” but Patrick’s fist to his jaw managed not only to throw his head backward but shut him up completely. Jonathan grabbed his face and stared at Patrick with shock. Patrick continued to push toward him until Jonathan threw his arms up in the air in defeat.

“Not worth it dude, I’m fucking out of here,” Jonathan said quietly before he walked out of the kitchen. Patrick waited a few moments, rubbing his sore hand absentmindedly, until he heard the front door close gently. He finally let out a loud sigh and took a few deep breaths before he walked back into the living room to collect his sobbing client and head to the police station.

***~~***

Ten hours later, when Patrick finally made his way back home, he was shocked to find a sleeping Jonathan Toews slumped against his front door. His head was thrown back against the building giving Patrick a clear view of the large bruise on his jaw, leaving Patrick with a feeling of smug satisfaction. But looking down he saw wilting roses clutched tightly in Jonathan’s hand and he felt a small pang of sadness. With a loud sigh he crouched down in front of sleeping man and put his hands on his shoulders. Jonathan jerked forward, almost clipping Patrick in the chin with his head, and jumped up quickly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am such a fucking asshole,” he said hurriedly as he hauled Patrick off the ground by his shoulders. “Please, please give me another chance, I swear I can do better than this,” he begged. His eyes were wide and terrified, like a deer caught in headlights, and although Patrick was still angry he couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and taking the flowers from Jonathan’s tight grip. He brought the roses to his nose and inhaled the sweet scent, closing his eyes to appreciate the lovely smell. With his other hand he reached forward and intertwined his fingers with Jonathan’s, not missing the grateful look in the other man’s eyes, and pulled him forward to place a feather light kiss against his lips.

“Walk with me,” he whispered, as he pulled Jonathan down the path to the sidewalk. The men walked for almost 20 minutes, winding their way through the uncharacteristically quiet Chicago streets, before Patrick motioned toward a bench and they sat down. He pulled their still intertwined hands to his lips and kissed Jonathan’s hand softly before placing their hands in his lap.

“I used to be a hooker,” he said quietly. “Hooker and escort are the only two jobs I’m qualified to do. But I don’t turn tricks anymore and I vowed to never, _ever_ go back to that life.” Jonathan turned to speak but Patrick shook his head and smiled sadly. “I know it’s hard to deal with all this and but your schedule isn’t exactly 9-5 either so if we are going to do this we have to do this with open minds and the understanding that it isn’t going to be simple.”

Jonathan sighed and leaned his head against the smaller  
man’s shoulder. Patrick allowed himself to rest his head on top of Jonathan’s and slowly stroked his thumb over the inseam of Jonathan’s jeans. After a few minutes Jonathan gently lifted his head and looked into Patrick’s eyes for a long moment before he stood up and pulled Patrick flush against his chest.

“My condo is just around the corner, let’s finish this talk there.”

But they didn’t finish their talk. By the time they got to Jonathan’s, grabbed a bottle of wine, and made their way out to the balcony their hurt and anger had dissipated and turned into something raw and needy. When their lips met in a heated kiss it was desperate, wild and different from anything they had previously shared. This was a kiss full of hurt and sadness that they were desperately trying to push away. So they chased the lust, the comfortable buzz they had felt for each other before that night and within a few minutes they had fallen back into that passionate place that had initially brought them together. They stripped their clothes off on the dark patio and slid down into the warmth of Jonathan’s hot tub, an extreme contrast to the winter air. Patrick paused for a moment to enjoy the amazing view of the sleeping city before he put his hands on Jonathan’s shoulders and pulled himself into the taller man’s lap. In this position they were almost the same height and Patrick rubbed his wet cheek against Jonathan’s for a long moment, enjoying the comfort of his touch before he eased himself up and slowly sank back down on to the other man’s cock. The desperation was gone and they made slow, passionate love in the open air, surrounded by the steam radiating from the warm tub. The only sounds were their gentle moans, the swishing of water, and the occasional sound of a car many stories below them.

“I really care about you Patrick,” Jonathan whispered into the crook of the smaller man’s neck. “I cherish you and I will never treat you like that again.” Patrick’s breath caught in his throat and he felt dizzy with something he had never felt before.  When he finally allowed himself to look into Jonathan’s eyes, full of insecurity, he couldn’t hold back and he whispered his own promises against waiting lips.


	5. Your Head is Running Wild Again

After that night things were really good with Jonathan and Patrick. They worked hard to spend as much time together as possible, even going so far as to share a google calendar to coordinate their schedules. Patrick found Jonathan’s obsession with the details of their calendar to be endearing. He laughed as the older man spent hours fiddling with their schedules and slotting in time for them to spend together. But as funny as it was to Patrick, it worked. They managed to see each other a few times a week and made the most of every moment they had together. They couldn’t exactly go on public dates so they were creative with what they could do within the confines of their apartments. Picnics on the balcony, movie nights complete with a rented movie theater popcorn machine, and what felt like a tour of every take out restaurant in Chicago, they were really happy and took their time getting to know one another.

Jonathan was handling Patrick’s job surprisingly well, especially after he overheard Patrick refer to him as his boyfriend while chatting on the phone with his client. That night Jonathan asked Patrick to fuck him; it was a first for Jonathan. It was a bit clumsy and messy but after, when Jonathan was trembling in Patrick’s arms, they shared hushed professions of love and vowed their faithfulness and devotion to one another.

But after a few months of bliss some of Jonathan’s insecurities began to creep back up. It bothered him to see Patrick holding hands with his client in public and when a magazine named them the “Hottest Couple of the Year” it was more than Jonathan could handle. He knew he was being hypocritical but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to come out publically but he wanted the world to know Patrick belonged to him. When Patrick cried out in pleasure it was the result of Jonathan’s touch, not his client. When he talked about his future it included Jonathan by his side, in his bed. He was being irrational but rather than talking to Patrick he became passive aggressive, shooting cutting remarks and picking fights. Before long the men found themselves fighting often and making love rarely.

On the night of their 6 month anniversary Patrick convinced his client that they should go to the Blackhawks game. Patrick meant it as a gesture, one that showed that he could support Jonathan in his own way, without publically outing them. But Jonathan seemed on edge through the entire game. He kept glaring up at Patrick and his client and during a TV timeout during the 2nd period Patrick began to second guess his decision to attend the game. He knew Jonathan was agitated and that had been the opposite of his intention. Then “Kiss Cam” landed on two girls who instantly grabbed each other and started kissing sloppily, eliciting an explosion of cheering from the crowd. The camera quickly panned away and landed on Patrick and his client. Laughing, they leaned forward and shared a kiss, both smirking for the camera and pretending to be embarrassed.  It was innocent, nothing more than the many chaste kisses Patrick had shared with his client over the years. But the crowd noise had been loud enough to draw attention from the team and when Patrick looked down at the ice he saw Jonathan staring at the screen, mouth set in a hard line. He turned around and crashed his stick against the boards, smashing it into pieces. A piece of his stick hit a referee in the face and before the ref could even call the game misconduct penalty Jonathan pounded his fist into the glass. The crowd was cheering, blissfully unaware of why their beloved Captain was so angry, but loving it nonetheless. 

After he had dropped his client at home Patrick went over to Jonathan’s house. He rehearsed his speech in the car, explaining that it was just part of the role. He didn’t have any feelings for her and the kiss was innocent, just like the type of kiss he would give his grandmother. But if Jonathan wanted him to, he was willing to end his career. The idea terrified him, he didn’t have any education or skills, but Jonathan was worth it. He could go back to school; he had plenty of money saved. He could find a new career, one which would not include kissing other people in public. Even if Jonathan never wanted to come out publically as a couple, Patrick was willing to give up his lifestyle if it made Jonathan happy. He was willing to do anything to make their relationship work and although he knew Jonathan was angry, he knew Jonathan felt the same way he did.

He knocked on Jonathan’s door and finally tried the door knob when there wasn’t any answer. He door opened easily and he entered Jonathan’s dark apartment carefully.

“Jonathan,” he called out softly. “Are you home baby,” but there wasn’t any answer. As he walked around Jonathan’s quiet apartment he chuckled at the spreadsheet on the refrigerator detailing Jonathan’s diet. As he ran his finger tips across the kitchen counter he smiled, realizing that he loved Jonathan’s obsessive behavior and almost crazy devotion to a task. The look of determination Jonathan would get while pouring over the latest information from the trainers was adorably comical and Patrick couldn’t help but smile as he thought about his boyfriend.

His daydreaming was interrupted by a noise coming from the balcony and he turned the corner just in time to find a naked, dripping wet Jonathan pushing a naked, dripping wet stranger into the wall before dropping to his knees.  Patrick let out an audible gasp and the other man jumped and tried to cover himself before looking down at Jonathan with a look mixed with confusion and terror. But Jonathan pulled the other man back into him and stared at Patrick as he took the stranger into his mouth, his eyes cold, hard, almost dead looking. He was looking at Patrick as if he _hated_ him. Patrick stumbled backward, unable to breathe. He couldn’t stop the tears which immediately poured from his eyes, blurring his vision. He felt drunk, confused, and knocked over a picture and a fruit bowl before he was able to make it to the door.

He paused for a moment, staring at his hand on the handle. He didn’t turn around, but said as loudly and clearly as he could, voice thick with tears, “Jonathan, I will never forget how I feel right now, how little regard you have shown for me. I will never forget how much I loved you and how little you loved me back.”

Then he turned the handle and walked out of Jonathan’s life.


	6. You're Still Written in the Scars on My Heart

Three weeks had passed and Patrick still hadn’t called to apologize. Jonathan was angry, frustrated, and beginning to feel a little scared that he would never hear from Patrick again. But Jonathan still believed Patrick was in the wrong and he refused to reach out to him.

Three and a half weeks passed before Sharpy cornered Jonathan and forced him to go out for a few beers. It took three beers and two shots before Jonathan spilled the entire story to Sharpy, holding nothing back.

“Wait, so let me get this right,” Sharpy said slowly. “ _You_ sucked some guy’s dick in front of him and you expect _him_ to apologize? Jonny, in what twisted universe are a peck on the lips and a blow job equal?” Jonathan blushed under Sharpy’s intense glare and looked down at the table.

“But, he kissed her. In public. And it bothered me,” Jonathan whispered. He looked up at Sharpy with tears in his eyes.  “I fucking love him. Like real love, ‘till death do us part and all that bullshit.”

Sharpy let out a strangled laugh. “Dude, you have a really shitty way of showing it. He’s never going to call you. Do you understand that? Never. If you want to be with him, if you want to somehow fix this, you are going to have to be the one to make the first move. But I’m telling you, if I pulled something like that the only thing I’d hear from Abby is the sound of divorce papers being served.”

“Fuck this, I want to talk about something else,” Jonathan slurred as he downed another shot. Sharpy didn’t push it, just let his friend drink and eventually dropped him off back at his house. Jonathan tried to convince himself that Sharpy was wrong, that this was all Patrick’s fault, but the more he thought about it the more he decided he maybe overreacted a little. He would call Patrick, make the first move, and when Patrick apologized they could get back together.

He grabbed his phone, dialed Patrick’s number, and gasped aloud when he heard the message stating the line had been disconnected. He knew he was too drunk to drive so he grabbed his coat and set out on foot over to Patrick’s apartment. He was pissed the entire walk. He couldn’t believe Patrick would change his number. He had every intention of giving Patrick an earful when he arrived, but was stopped by the older woman who lived across the hall before he could even knock.

“Oh dear, Patrick moved,” she said from across the hall. “We miss him so much; he was such a sweet boy.” Then she leaned in and lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret, “I think it had something to do with that girlfriend. I saw him as he was moving out and he looked terrible. Red, swollen eyes, just _awful_. I asked him where he was going and he said he hadn’t decided yet but he never wanted to set foot in Chicago ever again.”

 _Moved_? Jonathan’s entire world shifted upside down for a moment. He moved, he disconnected his phone...he couldn’t have really meant what he said as he left Jonathan’s house, could he?

“Um, ma’am,” Jonathan choked out, “did he leave any forwarding address or anything.” He felt cold and disoriented, but not from the alcohol. He felt a different type of cold, as if he were dying right there in the hallway across from Patrick’s apartment.

“Hmmm, no he didn’t,” she said. “But that awful girlfriend was over here yesterday, picking up the last of the boxes. I swear, the nerve of that girl to come over here,” she huffed. Then she turned and walked into her own apartment. Jonathan couldn’t think, could barely walk, but managed to turn himself around and walk out the door. Patrick was gone, and it was possible he was never coming back.

 

~~~~~~

 

It only took three hours for Jonathan’s agent to come up with the cell phone number for Patrick’s client but it took Jonathan seven hours to get up the courage to use it. When he finally did she gave very little information. She said Patrick didn’t have any intention of coming back to Chicago and didn’t want Jonathan to try to contact him.

“Please, just leave him alone,” she begged quietly. “He has gone through so much in his life and I really don’t know how much more hurt he can take.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Jonathan pleaded. “Please tell him I love him, I’m so sorry, and I swear to God I will be better if he gives me another chance.” His voice was thick with emotion but he didn’t try to hold it back. He needed this woman to understand how much he loved Patrick.

But she didn’t understand. She said she hoped he had a good season and ended the call. So Jonathan did exactly that. He poured all of his frustration and angst into his performance on the ice, hoping like hell that Patrick was watching him and would somehow know that everything Jonathan was doing was for him. But he could only play that hard for so long and after a couple weeks that fire turned into more of a tiredness which he couldn’t shake. He saw the way the guys looked at him in the locker room, a mixture of confusion and worry. He was being a shitty Captain but he just didn’t want to be around people any more than was absolutely necessary. He knew Sharpy wouldn’t let him continue to wallow in his depression so he wasn’t surprised when his friend showed up at his door after a home game with a case of beer and a joint, intent on talking.

And talk he did. He admitted he fucked up, that he had been so jealous and so insecure and it cost him everything. Sharpy listed patiently and gave more encouraging feedback than he had during their previous conversation. But finally, when Jonathan felt as if he couldn’t talk anymore. Sharpy asked him how he was going to get Patrick back.

“Get him back,” Jonathan laughed bitterly, “I don’t even know how to get in touch with him. I can’t even apologize to him, how am I going to get him back?” He felt the tears prickling behind his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

“Shit Jonny, you have a freakin national audience at your beck and call. Anything you say will get back to him. Take advantage of that.” Sharpy gave him a tight hug before leaving, making him promise to come out with the team after the next game. Jonathan nodded in agreement, not even realizing what he was agreeing to, because Sharpy was exactly right. The only way he would get Patrick back was with a grand gesture, something huge and public.

 

~~~~~~

 

Five days later Jonathan was in front of the Burkes, shooting a You Can Play PSA. It in he was coming out, publically admitting he was gay, with his entire team behind him. The entire Blackhawks front office, the guys, and the YCP group had been amazing. Everyone backed him 100% and he couldn’t believe how good it felt to be honest, to stop pretending to be someone he wasn’t.  He did an interview to go along with the PSA, coming clean about his sexuality and admitting that he was in love with a man. And at the end of the interview he looked straight into the camera and said, “I am so sorry that I hurt you. I love you more than anything in the world and if you please come back I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you for all the hurt I have caused.”

As Jonathan walked out of the studio he felt lighter than he had in years. Through all the planning of the announcement all he could focus on was getting Patrick back. He never considered how _good_ it would feel to be honest with himself and his fans. And now he just had to wait until Patrick called. He had done it, the grand gesture, the public profession of love and the heartfelt apology. So he went home and waited. His phone rang off the hook with calls and messages of support. He heard from pretty much every person he had ever known. But the call from Patrick never came.

 


	7. We're Not Broken, Just Bent

Patrick had been back in Chicago for six weeks before the media caught wind of his return. While he tried to keep a low profile the media was curious about where he had disappeared to for the past twelve months and his picture was instantly splashed across all the Chicago tabloids. The rehab rumor seemed to be the most prevalent, which was fitting since Patrick’s journey to find himself had been an intense, soul searching type of therapy. Luckily his new life was boring, consisting mostly of classes and study groups, and the media lost interest quickly.

While he longed to see Jonathan there was too much hurt, too much history, and Patrick was looking for a fresh start, not a step backward. He enjoyed his quiet life, immersed in his studies at Northwestern, his writing, and the little dog he had picked up six months ago in California, a rambunctious pug named Chelsea.

He was sprawled across a bench in the dog park, eyes closed and face turned toward the sun as Chelsea chased the other small dogs, when suddenly the warmth of the sun was blocked from his face by a dark shadow. He opened his eyes and was shocked to see Jonathan standing in front of him.

“Hey, I’m not stalking you or anything, but I was running by and saw you sitting here.” Jonathan shifted nervously, unsure of himself in a way Patrick had never seen before. “But I don’t want to bother you so…”

Patrick cut him off by grabbing his wrist, feeling a familiar tingling sensation as he touched the thin skin above Jonathan's frantically beating pulse. He pulled him down onto the bench and they both stared at the little dogs running in circles, unsure of what to say.

“The little pug is mine. She’s a pain in the ass but I love her.” Patrick looked over at Jonathan and as their eyes met he felt himself sway forward slightly, caught in the pull that had initially drawn him to Jonathan. He pulled back slightly but Jonathan moved forward and placed his hand gently on Patrick’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry for everything. I will regret it every day for the rest of my life.” Jonathan’s eyes were shining with unshed tears and he looked hopeless, lost. As much as Patrick knew they had to have this conversation someday, he was not ready for it now. Not in the middle of the freakin dog park with a dozen other pet owners standing nearby.

“Chelsea,” he called as he stood up, fumbling with her leash and dropping his coffee in the process. He tried to turn away but Jonathan stood right in front of him, blocking him from fleeing.

“Please Jonathan, let me go.” Patrick’s own tears were threatening and he couldn’t look up, he was afraid he would give in and fall into Jonathan’s arms, only to be hurt all over again. But Jonathan wasn’t giving up and he wrapped his arms around Patrick, pulling him tight against his body and leaned down to bury his face in Patrick’s neck. After a brief moment of hesitation Patrick squeezed him back tightly. He no longer cared if everyone in the dog park was staring at them. He didn’t care if the wetness pooling in the collar of his shirt was from his own tears or Jonathan’s. All he cared about in that moment was that he felt safe, he felt like he was _home_  in Jonathan’s arms and that was the exact feeling he had been chasing for the past twelve months. They stood like that, wrapped in each other, for what could have been hours but was more likely minutes, when Patrick felt a tugging on his pants. He looked down to see Chelsea playing with the fraying hem and pulled away from Jonathan to pick her up.

“Chelsea, huh,” Jonathan asked with a smirk as Patrick blushed. He clipped the leash on Chelsea and motioned for Jonathan to walk with him. The lapped the park a couple times in comfortable silence before Patrick finally led him out of the park and toward a brownstone situated on a quiet corner.

“This is me. It was really good to see you.” But he didn't move. He knew he should take Chelsea inside but he couldn't will his feet to walk up the path.

Jonathan shifted, shoving one hand deep in his pocket, before reaching out and twisting a stray curl behind Patrick’s ear.

“Will you let me see you again? I promise I won’t push you into anything you aren’t ready for but I love you,” the words were spilling out as if out of his control, “I love you and I need to have you in my life in any way you will let me. Please, Patrick, let me back in.”

Patrick smiled sadly, avoiding Jonathan’s eyes as he kicked a small rock off the sidewalk and onto the street. “I’m not the same person I was. I’m me now, really me, not someone I’m pretending to be. I’d like to be your friend but I’m not sure if I can ever give you more than that.”

“Whatever you can give, I’m in. I’m here. Anything you can give me is more than I deserve. You have all of my love and I’ll be happy with anything you can give me in return.”

“Same phone number,” Patrick asked, shooting shy smile over his shoulder as he walked up the path to his house. Jonathan nodded and Patrick’s smile widened. “Then I’ll start by giving you a call.”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, I finally finished a story!!! I usually end up bailing before I can get to the end so I’m really happy to have this one complete. I might end up doing a follow up to this; we’ll see how badly I miss this version of Patrick and Jonathan. Thanks to everybody for the comments & kudos. You were my motivation to finish and it never would have happened without you!


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